Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

“Good evening, Mr. Oryolov!”

Kirill snorts into his drink while I lean away from the phone in confusion. Hearing Sergey this chirpy is certainly a departure from the norm.

“I’m guessing you have good news to share?”

His breathing, despite his good mood, is still huffy and heavy. Apparently, that’s not a nervous thing, just a Sergey thing. “Sir, so far, all the trials we’ve conducted have been a roaring success. The new formula is performing well, with minimal side effects.”

“Excellent. And what about final studies?”

“Close to being completed, sir.”

“Final chemical shipment?”

“Due in two days.”

Kirill meets my gaze with a satisfied smirk. “We’re right on track,” he mouths to me.

“I’ll check in tomorrow. Keep it up, Sergey.”

Kirill punches his fist in the air as I hang up. “You’ve done it again.”

“I’m not celebrating until the launch event is over with,” I warn.

He waves a hand dismissively. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, dude. Our dealers have been hyping up Venera, pushing a couple of ‘exclusive’ samples to give the public a taste of it. People are losing their goddamn minds over this stuff. And happy customers spread the word to other happy customers. By the time we launch, it’s going to be the number one demand on everyone’s lips.” He cocks an ear to the window and softly chants, “Ve-ner-a. Ve-ner-a,” as if there’s a crowd of hungry partiers lining up outside to get their hands on a taste of the stuff.

It’s hard to temper the sense of victory, but I’m also keenly aware that a lot can change in a matter of days. I’m not willing to fuck things up by being overconfident about this launch. I’ll leave that task to Kirill.

“Speaking of the launch party—”

“Got it covered. A sizable ‘donation’ was made to the relevant authorities yesterday. I spoke to Sergeant Mathison myself. On the night of the launch, he and his men will be looking the other way.”

“Good.”

“What about our lord high commissioner?” Kirill asks, putting his hands together. “Do we need to approach Hiram Allens?”

“No. He’s a last-minute play, if and only if things go wrong and we need some extra pull. As long as I have Jessica eating out of the palm of my hand, convincing Hiram to help us with damage control is going to be a cinch.”

“I applaud your confidence.”

Something in my second’s tone catches my attention. “What exactly are you nervous about?”

Kirill rolls his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know—how about the fact that you’ve been stringing Jessica Allens along for a long ass time now? How can you be so sure she’ll jump when you tell her to jump?”

I smirk. “Because that’s how badly she wants me.”

“Except that you’re sleeping with your pretty little secretary.”

My fingers curl around the corners of the armrests. “Exclusivity was never part of my agreement with Jessica.”

“But it is with Emma, is it not?” I glare at Kirill, who just smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? I like reading the fine print.”

“It was necessary,” I growl. “I wasn’t about to let her fuck around with other men while she’s sleeping with me.”

“Makes sense.” He points a finger at me. “What doesn’t make sense is the fact that you’re going to her kids’ basketball games and taking them out for ice cream and fixing her beatdown old car.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. “I knew it was a mistake telling you all that.”

Kirill laughs. “You have feelings for her.”

If he were anyone else, I’d be firstly denying it and second, throwing him out of my office. Instead, I nod. “I feel something for her,” I admit grudgingly. “I just… don’t know what.”

“Maybe you don’t need to know. Right now, it’s just sex and fun right?”

“Right.”

“Then don’t overthink it. Just keep things the way they are for as long as they feel good. Why put a label on it?”

I nod. Kirill’s right. I need to stay in the present and focus on what I’m getting out of my association with Emma right now. The future is blurry and that’s okay with me. I don’t need her to be anything other than my secretary and my after-hours plaything.

Kirill and I go over the numbers for the current round of trial sessions that Sergey is carrying out. They’re the most expensive sessions we’ve run, given the tight deadline I placed on them, but I’m sure it’s a decision that will pay off.

Based on all the preliminary feedback we’ve received, Venera is going to sell out the moment it hits the market. Which means I’m going to recover my cost in record time.

I’m feeling fucking good when I slip into the back of the SUV after the meeting.

“Where to, boss?” Boris asks from the driver’s seat.

“The Madison Avenue penthouse today, Boris.”

A little peace and quiet is what I need right now. And when that’s my goal, the thirty-fifth floor of my place on Madison serves as my safe place.

From the chaos of being pahkan.

From the stress of being CEO.

From the pressures of my personal life.

We’re halfway there when my mood begins to shift. I still want peace and quiet. I still want refuge. But somehow, the thought of going to my silent, spartan penthouse in Midtown isn’t cutting it for me.

“Boris, change of plans. Drop me off in Hell’s Kitchen.”

I catch Boris’s confused expression in the rearview mirror. “Hell’s Kitchen, sir?”

“Yes.”

He changes course as I grab my phone and pull up the picture that Emma sent me last week, the day I’d given her the Mercedes.

She looked so damn happy, smiling at me through the blurry corner of the picture. It’s amazing that she can smile so big when, most of the time, she’s pushing a giant boulder up a hill.

Maybe that’s why I’m so determined to fix that stupid car of hers. And buy her kids pizza and ice cream and new shoes. I just want to make her life a little easier.

Is that really why? asks a pesky voice in my head. Is that why you just changed destinations? For her?

Or for yourself?

I swipe out of the picture and put my phone away as unease spreads through me. I had wanted to be alone tonight. I had wanted peace and quiet. Part of me still does. But another part of me—a part that’s growing louder and louder by the day…

Wants Emma Carson instead.